Green & Black: Recurve
by Bloodsong 13T
Summary: Sequel to Arrow: Green & Black. This continues the story of the uneasy alliance between the Starling City Vigilante and the Dark Archer. Alliances shift, perceptions change, and truths start to come to light. Strife arises, even between old friends. Malcolm is still holding the Markov Device as his last ace in the hole. Will he turn it over, or will he use it?
1. Recap

**Green & Black: Recurve**

**Recap**

* * *

_Previously, in Green & Black..._

_(Malcolm & Oliver)_

"I'm willing to suspend the Undertaking for a year. Or two, even. You continue with what you are doing. If you are able to make a difference, if you are able to start cleaning up the Glades and making it a better place..." He opened his hands in a peace offering. "Then you win. There will be no reason to level the Glades."

"What's the catch?"

"There is no catch." Malcolm met his eyes, held them. They wanted so badly to believe.

"I don't trust you."

"I'll help you."

"Help me?" Oliver flinched. "You tried to kill me."

"Well, you just tried to kill me," Malcolm shot back. "I guess that makes us even, doesn't it?" The younger man just blinked, completely flabbergasted. "Look, I can help you. I've been doing this a lot longer than you have."

...

Oliver cleared his throat, licked his lips. "I have some conditions for this deal."

Merlyn set the empty glass back down and folded his arms loosely. "I'm listening." He nodded encouragingly.

Oliver looked him in the eye. "You do not run me," he said. "I run this operation. I decide on the target. I choose when, where, and how I deal with them. I am not your cat's-paw."

===#===

_(Diggle & Oliver)_

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing!" Oliver raked his hand through his hair in frustration. He took a few breaths and marshaled his thoughts. Diggle didn't understand. "Malcolm Merlyn isn't our enemy. We both want the same thing."

The soldier folded his arms. "Last I recall, we were about saving lives, not destroying half of Starling City."

"I know it's a little extreme..."

"A little?"

"But the original purpose of the Undertaking was to wipe out crime and corruption. Merlyn's agreed to hold off on his plans while we try less drastic measures."

"We?"

"I've agreed to work with him t-"

"Oliver, you what?"

He huffed in frustration. "He and I have the same goals," he explained.

"You were supposed to defeat this guy, not join him!" The anger in Diggle's voice rang through the basement. He wasn't listening.

"He's not some Pol Pot."

"No, of course not. I was thinking more along the lines of a Hitler!"

===#===

_(Malcolm & Oliver)_

"This is what's left of an explosive device," Merlyn confirmed his suspicions. He picked up a binder from the table and flipped it open. "You'll want to have your people confirm it, I expect; but from the serial numbers that could be recovered, my investigation team traced these sources." He turned the binder so Oliver could see the list. "These are subsidiaries of a handful of shell corporations that belong to a man named Frank Chen, the CEO of Sanchen Enterprises."

Oliver frowned. Frank Chen? What did he have to do with Robert Queen? Merlyn's next words brought everything into focus.

"Frank was one of the members of our group. A partner in the Undertaking."

Oliver's eyes snapped to him. "Where is he?" he grated. He hadn't done it consciously, but his voice deepened as he accessed the hunting instincts of the Vigilante.

"I killed him," Merlyn said coldly.

===#===

_(Malcolm & Felicity)_

"You're a brilliant, intelligent young woman," he said above her. "We don't need to play these games. You know how this works." Tears spilled from her eyes. His voice hardened ever so slightly. "If you cooperate, you earn privileges. Eventually, you earn your freedom. If you resist, if you rebel, if you try to escape... you lose privileges."

Felicity sniffled. She suppressed a whimper, but she couldn't stop crying.

"Are you ready to start cooperating?"

She nodded, hugging herself tighter, trying to compress herself into a more solid mass.

===#===

_(Diggle, Oliver, & Felicity)_

She blinked owlishly at him. "You mean, he comes here...?" She pointed to the floor at their feet. John nodded. "And he...?" She mimed flipping a hood up over her head. John and Oliver nodded. "And you two...?" Oliver winced guiltily as she made little running legs with her fingers then added, "...And..." - here, she pretended to draw a little air-bow and release it with a sound effect - "_p-chew?_"

"Yeah."

Her face felt suddenly cold as all the blood drained from it. "Oh, my God."

"Get another shot," Oliver told John, and to her: "Just put your head down if you feel faint."

"No... no, I'm fine," she managed. She jittered her fingertips against her lips. "I'm just trying to remember how many times I called the Dark Archer a vicious, maddog lackey in front of Mr. Merlyn, and how many times I told the Dark Archer that he was just a tool for a cowardly rich bastard." Her voice ended on a squeak. She gulped the last of the medicine, and wheezed out, "He took it surprisingly well."

===#===

_(Felicity & Malcolm)_

"I have enough state's evidence to put you away for life. I don't want to see you here again!"

She slammed the door in his face - or tried to. He caught it with alarming speed and leaned in. "Need I remind you, Ms. Smoak, that my IT department has a copy of the Trojan you unleashed on our systems, which traces back to the NIC address of your tablet? Do you know what the penalties are these days for corporate espionage?" His eyes glittered with malice. She gulped. He leaned in further. "All of us have our decks invested in this house of cards that Oliver and I have built - you and Mr. Diggle included. If any one of these cards should be removed, it all comes crashing down."

===#===

_(Laurel & Tommy)_

"I know you've always had a thing for me-"

"A 'thing'?"

"And your friendship with Oliver kept you from acting on it. Then I know things were bad between me and Oliver for a time, but you were right, Tommy." She paced, unable to meet his eyes. "Despite everything, my heart never stopped longing for him. I can't explain it, and I am sorry, but I can't control my heart." Now she did face him, and her eyes were dark with sorrow. "You're a great guy. You've really grown these past few months, and I'm grateful for the time we shared together. You also know, things can't continue that way."

He grabbed ahold of himself. He had to make her see the truth. "Listen to me, Laurel. Oliver is not the man you think he is. He's changed."

"Of course he's changed. He's been through a lot." She folded her arms. "No one could go through what he's suffered and remain unscathed."

"No, you don't understand. You don't know him like I do," he insisted.

She quirked a brow. "I suppose that's true, you two being guys and all. I'm sure he tells you different things. But you don't know him like I do, either."

Tommy raked his hand through his hair, turning a small circle in frustration. "He hasn't told you the truth, has he?"

"He wouldn't lie to me."

"Oh come on, Laurel! He's been lying since he got back!"

"Okay, yes; you're right." She unfolded her arms and pressed down with her hands, as if fending off his words. "He's been through Hell, Tommy. I understand why he doesn't want to talk about it. He'll tell me in his own time. Or maybe never. But there's nothing you can say that can make me stop loving him."

===#===

_(Quentin Lance & Tommy)_

"Let me guess what happened. You two got into a fight over a girl. You lost, now you hate his guts. Oh, wait." He straightened. "That's not a guess. I know, because the girl you happen to be fighting over is my daughter. Small town, huh?" He flipped his hands up in a mock shrug. "Then you come in here with your accusations and no evidence-"

"You're the cops! Getting evidence is your damned job!"

"Don't you mouth off to me, boy," Lance growled. "I'll slap your ass in jail, and I don't care who your daddy is."

===#===

_(Tommy & Malcolm)_

"You never talk about her."

Rebecca? His brow creased. "Tommy, I think about her every day."

"Every time you talk about her," Tommy said, finally looking up, "it's always about how she was killed, about the man who murdered her." His eyes were dark, like deep water. "You never talk about her when she was alive."

===#===

_(Malcolm & Tommy)_

"All my life, I've been so self-absorbed in what I was doing, I never made time for the people I cared about. I would always push you away when you were a boy. And I thought... I was going to be better a better father than that, now."

===#===

_(Felicity & Malcolm)_

"Look. You got hurt trying to help people, to save the environment and all." And that was a brave, noble, and downright heroic thing to do. But she found she couldn't say that to his face.

She shook her head and tried another tack. "If you'd been doing something bad, like robbing a bank, and the security guard shot you in the ass? Okay, then, yes, there would be gloating." She swiveled back around. "Gloatage like you would not believe."

"I want to thank you, Ms. Smoak," he said. "For helping me."

"You're welcome."

He hovered there awkwardly for a few moments more. Then he said, "I don't like being in debt to people."

She sighed quietly and twisted to look at him. "You don't owe me," she said firmly. "We're a team. We help each other; that's what teams are for."

===#===

_(Malcolm & Oliver)_

Malcolm turned, looking out beyond the walls of the basement. "When I look out my office window at the city... Especially at night, when the lights glitter... And when the first rays of sun hit the skyscrapers, and they gleam all pink and golden and new... I can only see how beautiful it is. But I know that inside, it is hurting. There are elements poisoning this city. I want to take control. I want to excise the evil. I..." He stopped and rubbed his face. "God, I sound like an evangelist."

"No," Oliver said. "No, you're right. I know exactly what you mean."

Malcolm looked at him, his eyes moving over the scars that marked Oliver's body. "Because we have come through the pain, we've lost our fear. Others... their fears keep them chained. They can't make the hard decisions that men like you and I know have to be made." He looked Oliver in the eye. "Like Tommy, like your mother. They can't understand."

Oliver nodded again, slowly absorbing this. They couldn't condone murder, but he was not murdering people. He was a vigilante; he was dispensing justice, protecting the innocent. Doing the things that needed to be done, but that the police were constrained from doing.

Oliver looked at Malcolm with new understanding. My God, he's right, he realized. I am him.

===#===

* * *

It has been about a month or so since we last saw our heroes (or hero and anti-hero). They have been recovering from their injuries and crossing off a few more names from the List. And don't you know, Detective Lance was just thrilled to find out the Vigilante was not one of the unidentified bodies recovered from the chemical plant fire.

===_X_===


	2. The End of the Beginning

**The End of the Beginning  
**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Drama

Language: some

Violence: some

Nudity: none

Sex: none

Other: none

_Author's Note:_

Welcome back! (Um, unless you didn't start with Green & Black, the first series. Which you should check out. Really. It's good. ;) Well... I like it, anyway.) Hope you enjoy the show!

There's a little Easter Egg in this one, for the die-hard Arrow sleuths.

Let me reiterate once again: I know nothing of corporate stuff, the stock market, accounts, etc. I use Made Up Crap(tm). Don't look too closely into it. Also, I know that at the millionaire level of society there ought to be iron-clad prenuptial agreements, and yadda yadda. Where's the fun in that? Less logic, more drama!

Let's rock!

* * *

**The End of the Beginning  
**

===#===

Blood pooled in the street. So much blood.

The bow slipped from Oliver's nerveless hand. "Laurel?" He rushed to her side, heedless of any danger. He dropped to his knees beside the crumpled body. "Laurel!"

She was so cold, so limp in his arms. Her head lolled back, eyes vacant, hair plastered across her face. He brushed it away, his fingers clumsy in the glove. Blood smeared across her face. It soaked his leathers, staining them black.

He clutched her to his chest, but her eyes would not look at him. "Oh, Laurel, please..." He couldn't lose her; she'd been his spark, his angel, the lifeline to his soul as he descended into Hell on that island. He didn't deserve her, not after what he'd done, but she'd forgiven him. She'd healed his battered soul, returned the last piece of his humanity to him.

He couldn't lose her now. His vision blurred. No, he could _not_ be weak. The island had crushed tears from him with its uncaring, implacable harshness.

He clenched his teeth and drew back his lips. The island had stripped away his humanity, turned him into an animal. A dangerous beast. "Who did this?" Rage boiled inside him. He raised his head, roared, "Who did this?" at the crowd milling around. Their eyes were blank; their faces were blank.

He would rip them apart. Whoever was responsible for extinguishing Laurel's bright spark, her life, her love, Oliver would make them pay. "_Who did this?_"

A hooded shadow stood beside him. "The Glades did this."

Oliver watched the faceless people with murder in his eyes. They skulked. Rats scurried around their feet, slunk along the gutter, waded in the blood. The street was all grey and grime and filth. The Glades was infested with the soulless. Laurel had extended her hand, devoted her life to help them. And in return? Death.

Oliver snarled. "Burn it down!" He struggled to his feet with his burden. All around him, the rats fled, into the cracks, through the sewer grates. "Tear it down!"

Oliver's eyes snapped open. For a moment, the dream clawed at him, wouldn't release him. He struggled a moment, then control of his limbs returned. With a gasp, he sat up. He fumbled on the bedside table for the phone. He had to call Laurel, to know she really was all right. His hand hit the clock. 3:18, it read. She would not appreciate being awoken at this hour.

He'd wanted to move in with her, where he could be close by, to protect her. But... considering his erratic hours and clandestine night jobs, that would have just been too complicated. It seemed his life would be on hold until he finished his mission.

He lay back, trying to let the tension drain from his limbs. He was still agitated from the nightmare. The killing instinct still burned in his veins. He had to quell it. Anger only made him careless, sloppy.

He thought back to Yao Fei, his first teacher on the island, and, in retrospect, the most gentle. Yao Fei had always seemed calm, whether from traditional Chinese stoicism or his own personal attitude towards life. Everything was rendered in simple statements. Breathe. Shoot. Get. Survive. Everything, breathe.

Oliver took a deep breath and let go of his anxiety. Laurel was fine. She'd rolled her eyes at him and her father. _"It was only a purse-snatching,"_ she'd said. _"It wasn't like I was attacked."_ That, she could handle, thanks to her father's insistence on those self-defense classes. _"He was more afraid of me than I was of him,"_ she'd insisted. _"Stop hovering over me! It's a peril every woman faces when walking down the street. I'm_ fine_,"_ she'd reiterated for the hundredth time.

Every woman walking down the street... Oliver flung the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. The shadow from his dream haunted him. He rubbed his face. _Destroying the Glades is not going to make the city safer_, he insisted to himself. He couldn't ever think that. He had to make Malcolm realize it, as well.

===#===

Over the past few weeks, he and his team - plus occasionally the Dark Archer - had crossed off a few more names on the List. But things were slowing down. The bigwigs, the white collar criminals, the mobsters, the crooked cops; they were getting smarter, more careful. Either that, or the Vigilante had made his mark, and he _had_ changed Starling City for the better.

Yet, reducing the activities of the top predators didn't have any effect on the lower levels - the 'rats' as Malcolm liked to call them. Street crime continued unabated in the Glades. Although Diggle tried to encourage it, Oliver had never planned on fighting petty crime. No, his father had given him the List, and he had structured his plan around it. Once he had crossed off all the names, he would be finished, his father's dying wish fulfilled. Oliver could finally, _finally_, return to living his own life.

Fighting common criminals was a lost cause: it would never end. _"The Glades are like a rat's nest. The rats come out, they steal from you, they spoil your food, they bring plague and disease. You can set out poison, you can lay out traps, you can kill dozens and dozens of them, but they never stop coming, because they keep breeding down there, in that nest. The nest has to be destroyed."_

Oliver shook himself. The Undertaking was _not_ the answer. He didn't know what was, but... No, not the wholesale destruction of the Glades and the slaughter of everyone in it.

===#===

_Big Belly Burger, one afternoon_

Felicity was chain-scarfing her fries, using one economic motion to swipe them through the ketchup and on into her mouth. Her ubiquitous tablet sat at her left. "We've been through every large crate shipment Merlyn Global made that day and that night. And since then," she said, with barely a pause in her chewing.

"He could keep moving it around," Diggle said, finishing off his burger.

"Or, he could have packed it in the back of a pickup truck and drove it home to stash it in his basement."

"Don't think I won't look there, too."

She dropped the last fry, and wiped her hands on her napkin. "Don't you think it's time to give up on this?"

"No, Felicity. I can not rest while the Markov Device is in the hands of that madman."

"He's not..."

"The man is evil," he told her firmly. "Why can't you and Oliver see that?"

"Why can't you see the good he's been doing?"

"What, like that 'Humanitarian of the Year' deal?" he scoffed. "Because that's just a front to hide what he truly is."

She sighed and looked out the window. Malcolm Merlyn was a complicated man. But Diggle only saw things in black and white, or at least high contrast. That was his job, wasn't it? To be wary at all times, to be suspicious of everyone.

"He held you prisoner for two and a half weeks."

"I know."

"Then you know what his true nature is."

She did; she had seen him at his worst. Yet every time she thought back, she remembered his unfailing politeness, his frankness with her, his steady guidance as he led her blind out of the place where she'd been held. Maybe it was her mind trying to deal with things by erasing the bad memories, but even so, the work Merlyn had done with Oliver had more than made up for it. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. The incidents leading to her dark time in the basement were entirely her own fault.

"I understand why you're afraid of him," Diggle said.

"I'm not-"

He overrode her. "No one blames you, after what you've been through. And I know Oliver is afraid of him, too. But you guys have to shake it off and face up to it. We can't give up the fight now."

"Maybe it's you. Did you think of that?"

"Me?"

"You." She forged on before she lost her nerve. "You're afraid of this evil villain you've built up inside your mind. So much so, that you can't think that maybe you're wrong. And maybe Oliver is right. Maybe he can talk Merlyn out of going through with the Undertaking. So all we need to do is wait. All this raiding of warehouses is only going to provoke him, Digg."

"That's the fear talking again."

"Fine." She pulled the USB stick from her tablet and handed it to him. "But this is the last batch. If you don't find the Markov Device in these locations, you're done."

"What if he hid the device inside a bigger shipment, like on a pallet with other crates? We could expand the search-"

"Or maybe he disassembled it, and hid it in a bunch of smaller shipments," Felicity countered. "That means, basically, that you'd have to look at every single shipment in the entire corporation. Good luck with that, because I'm done."

"Felicity..."

"No." She shook her head. "I have a job for eight hours a day, with overtime when some idiot spills coffee on his keyboard, plus nights and weekends that are not conducive to sleep. Or cleaning my apartment. Or having a social life." Her voice was getting louder. Recalling that they were in public, she lowered it again. "Merlyn already has proof that I put a Trojan on his system. If he finds out I've been snooping his company shipping records, too - well. That would not be good."

She packed the tablet into its carrying case. "I have faith in humanity," she told the bodyguard. "And I think Oliver can talk him around. If not, then I have faith in Oliver to... handle it."

Diggle just shook his head as she got up and left.

===#===

_Merlyn Global_

Tommy went into his father's executive office and carefully closed the door before dropping all pretensions of civility. "Thank God that is over! The Carmichaels are driving me nuts. Is he a born-again used car salesman? And his wife - their poodle is more attractive than she is. Plus, I think it has more brains than both of them combined." He slumped against the door, then glanced towards the drink cabinet. So tempting.

When Malcolm didn't seem to have anything to say, Tommy looked over to see him staring at a computer screen.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

Tommy straightened and walked towards the desk. "Is everything okay? You seem preoccupied lately."

"Sorry." Malcolm looked up, smoothing his features. "Just thinking... trying to work out some things."

"With the company?" A pang of worry shot through Tommy. Had he messed something up? Or had fickle economics decided to bite Merlyn Global in the ass?

"No. Personal things."

Call it selfish, but Tommy immediately relaxed. "Well you know," he said lightheartedly, "besides being on of your top up-and-coming executives - who, may I just quickly point out - is not getting paid quite enough... I am also your son. So. Personal things? I'm your guy."

Malcolm smiled. "Thanks, Tommy. But... I still haven't really pinned anything down just yet."

"All right. Back to business. Why did you give me this Carmichael account?"

His father tried to hide another smile.

"Are you snickering? Is this some kind of test? You gave me the most difficult account in the books, just to see if I can hack it?"

"No, actually. After dealing with them for eight years, I've had more than enough."

"Oh, so you are snickering. Good to know." He mock-frowned. "And thanks for that. You know, I have half a mind to chuck the whole thing."

"It's one of our most lucrative accounts," his father protested.

"Yeah, but there's something weird going on... I can't quite figure it out. Hey, since this isn't a test, can you go over the reports with me?"

"Of course I can. You shouldn't hesitate to ask."

"Well, I gotta try it on my own." He had to move out of his father's protective shadow some time.

Malcolm looked at him a moment, his eyes shining with - it was pride, Tommy realized with a flush of warmth. "Do you have the reports here? We can do it now."

"Actually, since it's kinda late, and I've had a rough day, I was hoping we could look at it over a couple of beers. Maybe some steaks?"

"That sounds good. Let's go to The Manhattan."

"Great!"

Malcolm shut down his laptop and packed it into his briefcase. He draped a friendly arm over Tommy's shoulders as they headed for the door.

"And, you're buying, right?" Tommy pressed. "Because I'm still waiting on that raise. My boss doesn't seem to be taking the hint."

Malcolm chuckled. "Well, you're still relatively new to that job. Maybe you have to wait a year or so for another raise."

"A whole year? Naah. He can cut me a break. I am his son, after all."

"I think that's called nepotism."

"Who's going to tell? Come to think of it, who are they going to tell it to?" Tommy laughed lightly. "Seriously, what's the point of being rich and powerful if you don't get to abuse it once in a while?"

Malcolm activated the elevator doors and ushered Tommy inside. "I'm sure you've heard that 'with great power comes great responsibility.'" He followed his son inside and hit the button to take them to the ground floor.

Tommy just groaned and rolled his eyes. He looked desperately at the floor indicator, willing it to move faster so he could escape.

"I know you hate sermons," his father said. "Which is why we're doing this as a practical lesson." He snickered, he really did this time!

"It's not like I'm asking you to fire half the IT department, or steal the Christmas bonus from Sales..."

"Tommy, money does not appear out of thin air."

"So you _do_ have to fire the IT department to give me a raise? Come on."

Malcolm rubbed his temple. "Look, when you do something for the company worthy of a bonus, you'll get it."

"Like... suck it up with the Carmichaels?"

His dad grinned. "Exactly."

Tommy groaned again.

===#===

_Law Offices of Claybourne, Drayson, and Grissom_

Moira's leather chair was soft and comfortable. She didn't settle into it, but leaned forward, keeping her spine straight. Her lead divorce lawyer, David Drayson, greeted Walter and ushered him to a chair across the oak table. Walter's lawyer introduced himself as Mr. Meyers; he was a man of strong features and athletic build, but several years older than Drayson, who was somewhat of a young shark determined to rocket to the top of his career.

It didn't take them long to settle in and get to business.

"Mrs. Queen," Meyers greeted her, with a warm smile that did not reflect in his eyes. "I'm sure we can come to an amicable settlement. My client is willing to withdraw all claim to the private property, domicile, and the contents thereof - barring, of course, any personal effects."

"Well, he should," said Moira; "being as none of that is his; it belongs to the Queen family."

Drayson touched her wrist lightly. "Now, Moira... Mr. Steele, have you given any thought of reconciliation?"

"No."

The answer was simple, direct, and decisive. Moira was not surprised by his answer, but it still hurt, all the same. She strove to keep the hurt from her expression, almost without conscious thought, as it had become her habit over the past few years.

Meyers cleared his throat. "Now, as to the dispensation of the company assets..."

Moira said, "Those are also the property of Robert Queen and his successors."

"Which of whom do you plan to have run the company?" Walter shot back. "Thea isn't old enough - or educated enough - she's barely out of high school. And Oliver? He's proven himself to be a very bad choice of candidate."

"After his ordeal, I would expect him to need a period of adjustment, with respect to any endeavor."

"Moira, I have been the CEO of Queen Consolidated for the past five and a half years..."

"No, you have been the CEO for five years. I have been the acting CEO for the past eight months."

"You, yourself, do not have sufficient experience in handling an international corporation."

She bristled. "I have over twenty years experience supporting my husband through the growth and trials of Queen Consolidated. I have far more skills than you realize." And that was thanks to Malcolm Merlyn. She never thought she'd be grateful to him for anything. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"You seriously believe you are ready to handle this gargantuan responsibility?" Walter asked reasonably.

His lawyer added, "Mrs. Queen, I understand your desire to keep your stock options, but running the company? It's a job best handled..."

"'By a man'?" She stared coldly into his eyes. "Is that what you were going to say, counselor?"

"No, ma'am." He dropped his gaze, and Walter shot him a scathing look.

"My children's futures depend on the company their father and grandfather built. I am not about to hand over ownership of it to someone outside our family."

"But the day-to-day running of the business, Moira," Walter pleaded. "The position of CEO-"

"Should not be held by a man with any trace of animosity towards our family."

Silence filled the room after that veiled accusation. Moira could sense Drayson trying not to fidget, while Meyers glanced from his client to the opposition in confusion. But she, herself, kept her eyes steady on Walter. Once her ally. Once her love. Now... another potential danger.

Walter kept his voice level, still. "It will be decided by the board of directors."

"Yes, it will. And the director with the most shares gets the biggest vote, and that is not you, Walter."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, echoed by one at his temple.

Drayson moved smoothly into the breach. "My client contests ownership of the jointly-held company stocks."

"But the pre-nup-" Meyers objected.

"Is in contest." The young shark glared at his competitor.

"Moira, think of what you're doing," Walter said. "This could hurt the company. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

She didn't back down. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"I believe I know what is best for Queen Consolidated."

"And I know what is best for Robert's company, and his children." She stood up. This meeting was over. There was no point in further argument unless it was in front of a judge. "I will see you gentlemen in court."

Moira strode out. She had work to do.

===#===

_News 52_

_"In financial news today, a 3.5 point drop hit Queen Consolidated stock prices, showing a loss in confidence of investors following the public announcement of the imminent divorce of Walter Steele, current CEO, and Moira Queen, acting CEO._

_"The market as a whole was sluggish today. The best performance by far was from Merlyn Global, jumping 5.2 points after a lucrative acquisition of Meissezner Trust."_

===_X_===

* * *

_"Or, he could have packed it in the back of a pickup truck and drove it home to stash it in his basement."_

- Ah, see, you were wondering if season 2 of Arrow would impact Recurve. There you have it! ;)

.

_"Seriously, what's the point of being rich and powerful if you don't get to abuse it once in a while?"_

-"General Grillo, I ask you: what is the point of power if you don't abuse people?"

7500 Bloodsoing Points if you thought Tommy's opinion might be influenced by Komodo's. ;)


	3. The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo 1

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 1**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Drama

Language: some

Violence: none

Nudity: none

Sex: none

Other: none

_Author's Note:_

As you can guess, this mission was inspired by Stieg Larsson's trilogy. Don't worry, it won't be anywhere near so harrowing for Felicity as it was for Lisbet.

And as usual, this mission will probably have four parts. This is a work of fiction, if you see a familiar name, it's a coincidence.

* * *

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 1**

===#===

Felicity was unpacking another parcel full of gadgets; her face lit up with glee. "Check these out," she said to Oliver and Diggle. "New, miniaturized noise-suppressors!" She unwrapped a sleek earpiece-and-microphone combination from its plastic bag. "Not only will we not have to worry about gunfire and grenades" - she shot Oliver a look as if it were his fault people lobbed grenades at him - "cutting off the comms. Bonus: they work locally, so we - and by 'we,' I mean those of us going out and getting shot at - won't damage our hearing. How cool is that?"

Oliver started to grimace, then changed it into a tight smile. After all, it was Felicity's persistence in making him wear protective devices that had helped him recover the hearing he'd lost in his right ear. And it would be a relief not to have to wear the larger ear protectors. He took the one she profferred and tried it on. "Can it boost low-level signals?" A hearing amplifier _and_ protector would be extremely useful.

"I'll have to read the manual." Felicity fished around in the packaging for it. Oliver couldn't help but notice she'd purchased four units. Not three.

This grated on Oliver. Malcolm Merlyn was _not_ part of their team. Yes, he had helped them out on several occasions. Still, whenever Oliver broached the subject of the Markov Device, Merlyn was adamant about refusing to give it up. When he'd taken this deal, it was with the slim hope that he could change Merlyn's mind about destroying the Glades. Taken the deal? More like forced into it.

He was willing to give the man half a chance, but he couldn't discount his mother's warnings not to trust Merlyn, either. Oliver had to remain in control, impartial, until the truth became clear through the murky web of lies and deceit. He knew there were still buried secrets. He had to be careful lest he trip over them.

Oliver heard the back door open, and he turned. Since Diggle and Felicity were already here, it could only be one other person. At least he had called ahead this time.

Malcolm Merlyn strode into the room and set his briefcase down on the work table. "Oliver," he said cordially, and Oliver nodded back. "Mr. Diggle. Ms. Smoak. Good evening."

The bodyguard gave a curt nod; it was no secret he disliked the man. Felicity smiled more easily. Oliver did not fail to notice that she subconsciously crossed her arms, a defensive posture, even if she wasn't aware of it. He turned to the businessman. "What did you want to see me about?"

"I want you to take a look at Les Burkhardt. He's a human trafficker." Malcolm snapped open his briefcase and removed a folder. "This is a dossier on his actions." He set it on the table.

Oliver crossed his arms, the irony of this not lost on him. "I told you, you do not run this operation."

"I'm not trying to run your operation. This is a time-sensitive situation. Burkhardt spends most of his time out of the country." He directed his words not just at Oliver, but to his team as well, with the ease of addressing a boardroom. "He travels through Central and Eastern Europe, offering young women a special exchange program wherein they can visit the US. Once they arrive, he takes away their passports so they can't leave and are too afraid to go to the authorities. He then forces them into prostitution. His operation is getting ready to bring in another group."

Oliver narrowed his eyes. "You cannot waltz in here and lay down a mission."

"It is your mission to stop these people on the List. I thought you wanted my help."

"If I need your help, I will call you." Oliver locked gazes with Malcolm, but he could see in his periphery that Diggle and Felicity were looking at him. Looking to him for guidance.

"At least look over the information," Malcolm insisted. "Double-check it if you still don't trust me, but we need to move on this guy, now."

"So you can take advantage again?" He saw Merlyn affecting a puzzled look, and he shook his head. "After I forced Trammler to own up to using sub-par building materials and pay the fines, you underbid him. Then when I took out Meissezner's head of operations, you closed in and bought up the company while they were still trying to reorganize."

Merlyn frowned. "Oliver, that's just business."

"And I will not be your cat's-paw," Oliver grated out. "_I_ will pick the names from my father's list."

Malcolm stepped closer, his eyes hard. "It's _my_ List. And I don't need you, or your permission, to eliminate people from it." He turned, secured his briefcase, and stalked out.

Felicity stood up and timidly reached for the dossier.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asked, frowning at her.

She gave him a wary look. "Independently verifying this information for you?"

"Don't bother." He grabbed his father's battered and worn book and flipped through the pages.

"But, Oliver. This... this is like slavery. It _is_ slavery."

"I agree," Diggle added. "Whoever's idea it is, it sounds like this Burkhardt guy needs to go down."

"Is that all it's going to take?" Oliver said, looking up at them. "Merlyn comes in here with a story about crimes against humanity, and you're ready to follow him?"

Diggle pursed his lips. "I can't believe you'd blow something like this off over some... power struggle. You think Merlyn's lying?"

Oliver kept paging through the book. Meanwhile, Felicity had snagged the folder and was perusing its contents. "You know what?" he told her; "Look up this Les Burkhardt and see if he doesn't own any businesses or interests that are competing with Merlyn Global. That's where you can start."

She nodded and returned to her workstation, setting aside the dossier in favor of the keyboard.

"What's gotten into you, Oliver?" Diggle probed. "I thought you were all about giving Merlyn a chance to turn around."

"And I thought you were all about never trusting him." He still didn't look up. He had read his father's notebook a million times. He could practically recite it, forwards and backwards. When he heard a name from the List, it resonated inside his mind, lit up like a warning beacon. He shook his head. "There's no Les Burkhardt on the List." He thumped the book down on the table.

"Can I see?" Felicity asked.

With a shrug, Oliver picked it back up and passed it over to her. "What did you find out about Burkhardt's business?"

"He's import/export. Well, mostly import. He has contracts in Eastern Europe, former Soviet Union, Southeast Asia. Antiquities and technology. Now there's a combination you don't see every day." She turned her attention to the book.

"He must have something Merlyn wants." Oliver paced restlessly. "He's been using our work to take advantage with these 'business' deals."

Diggle toyed with his lip thoughtfully a moment, then said, "So he plants some evidence, brings us this story, and we take out his competition?" He shook his head. "He's a clever bastard."

"And he gets you to think he's some kind of hero," Oliver added. "This just smells like six kinds of trap."

"Oliver," Felicity said slowly, "there's pages missing from your book." She turned it over and looked at the top edge. "How did that happen?"

"Ehrm... When I got it, the pages were blank."

"They were encrypted with invisible ink," she said, nodding. "Probably lemon juice."

Uncomfortably, Oliver confessed, "Well, I sorta used some of the pages for a fire before I discovered the writing on them."

"Ah. So this name, it... could have been on one of the pages you tore out." She peered up at him through her glasses. "And Mr. Merlyn could be telling the truth."

He shook his head. "Why would he just bring this up out of the blue, if it wasn't to his advantage?"

"I don't know. Maybe humanitarian reasons."

Oliver snorted. Echoed by Diggle. The bodyguard clarified, "Oh, right. The Humanitarian of the Year."

Felicity was getting that stubborn look. "You know, a lot of charities Merlyn Global supports are for women's interests. Shelters for battered women here at home, relief for women in South America..."

"That's because his wife was murdered," Oliver explained.

"Well for whatever reason-"

"Felicity, it's a trick."

"So that's it? You're not going to help?"

That's it, he'd tipped her over the argument threshold. There was nothing to do but see it through to the end. "If Merlyn wanted this guy's white slavery ring busted, why didn't he use that secret group thing of his to bring it down?"

"Well, from what I understand, the group never used physical force before."

"Before I came along, you mean? You're going to blame this on me?"

"It's not 'blame,' Oliver."

"Still. He says he has contacts in the police force. Why didn't he alert any of them to all this?"

Felicity bit her lip. Clearly, she had no answer to that one.

Oliver relaxed a notch. "Look into it, if you want to," he told her. "Take the information to the police. We are not hired guns - and we are _not_ Malcolm Merlyn's hit squad."

===_X_===


	4. The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo 2

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 2**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Drama

Language: a tiny bit

Violence: none

Nudity: none

Sex: none

Other: none

_Author's Note:_

Did all G&B chapters used to be this short? :X

* * *

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 2**

===#===

_Queen Consolidated, IT Department_

This was the fifth time Felicity called. It kept going to voicemail, and she had really no idea what she could leave as a message. She would have to think of something. How else was she going to-

"_Hello?_"

"Mr. Merlyn? It's Felicity Smoak."

"_How can I help you?_"

"I, um... Well, I'm calling because I want to help you, actually."

"_I thought your employer had decided not to pick up this contract._"

Oh. Felicity blinked. There must be someone there with him, where he couldn't talk about secret clandestine vigilante activity. Right! "Technically, he's not my employer. Well, no, _technically_ he is, but _literally_, he technically isn't." Oh yeah, that was real clear. At least in her own mind. "What I mean is, I'm a freelance agent."

"_I believe we can work with that. Hang on a moment._"

Felicity waited a minute, chewing the corner of her lip. When he came back on the line, he said they could have a late lunch meeting at one of the Starbucks downtown.

===#===

_Downtown_

You couldn't go four blocks downtown without seeing another Starbucks. They did a thriving business with the corporate lunch crowd. Queen Consolidated wasn't that far from Merlyn Global, but Felicity felt like a fish out of water. This was the 'Merlyn Global' Starbucks, not the one she was used to. The fact that it was practically identical inside - coffee bar, clusters of stools and tall eating tables - didn't mitigate this feeling. Actually, she felt like a complete turncoat, going into enemy territory to hand over trade secrets. But surely, no one there knew she worked for the competition.

She hauled her purse higher on her shoulder as she took her latte and bagel. She turned, scanning the thinning crowd to map out a path to Mr. Merlyn's table. She'd caught sight of him when she came in, and he'd given her a subtle nod of greeting.

As she approached, she noticed another man at a nearby table, impeccably attired, staring at her intently. A cold prickle of fear bloomed along her spine. She stared back at him, caught between sensing danger and knowing what to do about it. Her feet carried her closer.

"Langstrom," Mr. Merlyn's voice drifted from over the man's shoulder. He quit staring and stepped aside. "My bodyguard," Malcolm explained, clearly noting her bewildered look.

"Oh." Felicity wondered what a man like Merlyn - a veritable American Ninja Warrior - needed with a bodyguard. Then it dawned on her. Duh. Appearances.

Whatever else this Langstrom fellow did or was for, he was good at exuding an air of uncomfortableness from the next table, leaving Malcolm and Felicity in a semi-private little bubble.

She set her cup and napkin-clad bagel on the table and perched on the stool across from Malcolm. He shifted a folded newspaper out of the way. "Thank you for coming. And, of course, for your help in this matter."

She nodded, shoving her bagel in her mouth and chomping a large bite.

"Please," he said, "take your time."

"Mn? Oh." She shifted the food around in her mouth so she could be at least partially intelligible. "I'm used to eating on the run. Always busy, stuff to do, emergencies at work, holding two jobs..." She was also adept at chewing and talking at the same time. Multitasking was her middle name.

Mr. Merlyn's face lightened with a trace of a smile.

"What?" She washed down another mouthful of bagel with some latte.

"You really are like this all the time."

Her cheeks grew warm as she recalled a certain comms incident - that shall never be recalled again, she admonished her brain.

"Sorry." He smiled a bit more and lowered his eyes.

She blushed all the more to know he'd noticed her blushing in the first place. And no cool water in sight. She gulped hot latte.

Malcolm pulled a USB stick from his inner pocket and handed it across the table. "This is a list of Burkhardt's holdings, some business fronts he's used for his trafficking before. We think."

"You think?"

"He's not easy to track. And he certainly doesn't advertise," Malcolm said. "I'm sure you could have come up with all this on your own."

She nodded. All that business stuff was out there on the 'net, just waiting to be compiled.

He leaned forward. "What I can't ask my IT department to do, is to hack into Burkhardt's personal information and find out his travel schedule. When he's coming to the States, through what venue, the arrangements he's made for the young women, and where his operation is going to end up. He uses different cities. Starling, Seattle... if he goes to Los Angeles this time, we could lose track of him in that hive."

"If he doesn't come to Starling, are you still going to go after him?"

Malcolm frowned in thought a moment. She recalled he'd once said his group didn't pursue crooks outside the local area. Then he shook his head. "No, it doesn't matter where he goes. This man is a plague. He needs to be stopped."

"Why didn't you stop him before?" Felicity asked. Oliver had implied that they - the secret group with no name - could have done so at any time.

"That's... not the way we operated," he admitted, his eyes cast down. "We could have tried to tip off the police, but Burkhardt would have paid them off. Or fled to Slovakia. Or... I don't know."

He seemed sincere. Felicity nodded to herself. She vaguely wondered why the Dark Archer couldn't mop up this slimeball the way he'd done with the UNIDAC scientists... But he was doing so, now. He was doing the right thing.

She looked up and met his eyes. "Well, I can track him, no problem." She smiled in pride, and he smiled back. "And if you need someone on the inside, I can do undercover work, too. Of course, it would be difficult to slip into the group in Europe - except I guess you can technically fly me there, if we're early enough. Or there might be a chance, like, I dunno, at a stopover or change over. They can't get to the West coast without a stopover-"

Malcolm's hand closed over hers on the table, cutting her off. "Ms. Smoak, I wouldn't put you in that kind of danger."

"Oh, Oliver does. I mean, not 'put' per se. He asks, of course. Or I tell him. I'm just saying, I'm actually surprisingly good at keeping my cool and fooling the bad guys."

"Well, I don't-" His eyes flicked past her. "My son just walked in." Instantly, his serious mien dropped from his face, replaced with a bland ordinary businessman look, a quick smile as he caught sight of someone familiar. He removed his hand from hers in a wave.

_Wow_, Felicity thought. _He'd make one hell of an actor._ Meanwhile, she was frozen in a bit of panic. What was she going to do? She'd never been formally introduced to Tommy Merlyn, but... what if he recognized her? _Gah! Didn't you just say you were very cool doing undercover work?_

_Yes, sure, when I've had time to prepare!_

"Dad? Hey." Tommy stopped at the side of their table. "What's up?" He gave her a look. Oh yeah, he knew her.

Malcolm said, "This is Felicity," with just the right amount of hesitation and questioning lit of someone who'd just met. She smiled and nodded. "And this is my son, Tommy."

"Pleased to meet you," she said. See? This was going to be easy. Just like that roleplaying she used to do in college. Though, didn't they manage to destroy the Red Dragon Inn every night?

"Don't I know you?" Tommy said, his brows knitting.

"Um..."

"You work at Queen Consolidated, don't you?"

"Uh, yes. I do."

"So what are you doing in this neighborhood?" he asked innocuously enough.

Oh hell! "I had a dentist appointment, just around the corner. I thought I'd stop in on my way back." Good one! Felicity thanked her brain and promised it ice cream tonight.

Tommy turned his puzzled gaze to his father. Malcolm picked up the ball. "She ran out of change in line, so..." He shrugged and smiled.

"Chivalry is not dead." Oh God, Felicity, don't overplay your role! "But I do need to get going before I'm late." She gathered up her half-eaten bagel and paper cup. "It was nice meeting you." She smiled at each Merlyn, then beat a hasty retreat.

===#===

Malcolm watched Felicity leave. She really was something.

"Dad," Tommy chided him with a sidewise look.

"What?"

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"She's like my age." Tommy gave him a crook-browed, half-frowning grin.

"We were just talking," Malcolm insisted. Of all the ideas he could get about Ms. Smoak...!

"Yeah, well, be careful. She might be looking to jump the QC ship and land a job at Merlyn Global, what with The Big Divorce."

Malcolm shook his head, although he thought Ms. Smoak would make an excellent addition to their IT department. "Well, she's wasting her time with me," he said aloud. "She'd have to cozy up to the head of Human Resources."

Tommy snorted. "Besides, I think she was dating Oliver. She's just bad news."

Dating Oliver? Tommy had no idea. Malcolm shook his head. "I thought Oliver was dating Laurel," he probed gently.

Tommy grimaced. "Yeah, and maybe he dumped all those other women he's been sleeping around with. Or, hell, maybe not."

Malcolm sighed inwardly. There was nothing he could do about the rift between Tommy and Oliver. And as he'd already told Oliver, a woman's heart was her own, and no one could tell her where to bestow it.

Tommy looked down at the folded newspaper. "Is that the racing form?" He picked it up and frowned. "Again, Dad?"

"I like racing. Besides, it's one of those non-violent sports you like." Malcolm only got an eyeroll from his son. "I still think it might be interesting to own a thoroughbred."

"Why don't you just drop ten grand on the next Triple Crown winner?" Tommy shook his head. "It'll be much more exciting, and actually cost you less. Bonus: the odds of you making money on it are much higher."

Now Malcolm did sigh. Well, they still had fishing. He rescued his paper. "Are you grabbing some lunch? I was about to head back to the office, but if you wanted to talk a bit..."

"Actually I'm meeting someone." Tommy smiled tightly. "Thanks, anyway."

===_X_===

* * *

End Notes:

_Just like that roleplaying she used to do in college. Though, didn't they manage to destroy the Red Dragon Inn every night?_

-yo, a shout-out to my peeps from Q-Link and GEnie and Delphi and IRC! (if any of ya are still alive :X )


	5. The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo 3

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 3**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Action/Drama

Language: some

Violence: oh yeah

Nudity: implied (m, f)

Sex: see Other

Other: sexual assault

_Author's Note:_

I wanted to leave this within the Teen rating, but some of the subject matter is more adult and the violence more graphic. If you think it needs to be bumped up to an M rating, please let me know.

German by Die Astra, so I don't sound like a Google Translator idiot. Thank you, Astra!

WARNING: Cliffhanger ahead. Not as bad as last time, don't worry. :X (Of course, nothing can top last time! ;P )

* * *

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 3**

===#===

The limo was an IT girl's wet dream. Black leather, chrome... One laptop was locked securely into a holder in front of her, at exactly the proper ergonomic height and angle. It was a thick one, heavy. High-powered, with triple storage capacity, onboard Ethernet hub, and TV tuner card. Another laptop was clamped to the divider wall, a widescreen beast connected to the first one. A satellite tablet sat in another holder to her left.

Malcolm had shown her the toys when he'd explained the mission plan. The sex traffickers' facility was in a building that had originally been a school in the fifties, then converted into offices in the late seventies, and finally left empty when jobs the Glades had become scarce. Burkhardt owned it outright, but kept it closed up until he needed it. It had it's own closed-circuit security cameras, which would be tapped by a group of mercenaries, who would then feed the signal to Felicity's workstation.

"You have backup?" she had asked him.

"More 'clean-up,' really," he'd said. "The Bloodravens are some of the women Oliver requested to guard you, when you were..." He trailed off a bit awkwardly.

"Oliver requested?" she'd blurted in surprise. It was the first she'd heard of it.

"Yes. He didn't want a bunch of men watching over you while you were detained."

Her mind had spun. It was nice and all, Oliver worried about her well-being and comfort, but the thought of the two men negotiating her captivity... He couldn't have negotiated her freedom instead?

She'd shaken that from her mind. She had to focus on the job at hand and not worry about old business from her past. "They know?" She'd asked, glancing at the computer rig, the black leathers Malcolm wore, "About all this?"

"They know they're paid well to obey orders and not ask a lot of extraneous questions. Now," - he'd handed her a streamlined earpiece - "this is dual-channel. You and I will have an open link. To communicate with the Bloodravens, you'll use the push-to-talk."

"Me?"

"This is the control center, Felicity. You're control."

She'd probably gaped like a fish.

"This is basically the same thing you do for Oliver, just with a larger team. I know you can handle the tech and the coordinating. Your call sign, Red, has been reserved for you."

"Actually, I was thinking of changing it to Trinity," she'd mused.

"That suits you," Malcolm had said. When she'd quirked a brow, he smiled. "I have seen that one."

"Well, actually, for this mission, it should probably be Lisbet, but..." She'd tapped her fingertips against her chin. "I don't think I could survive what she went through." That had put a puzzled look back on his face. "_The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_," she'd supplied. He'd shaken his head. "I don't have a tattoo, though," she'd mused.

She could get one. After this mission, to celebrate her heroism. A mark of honor. But she had this thing about sharp, pointy objects. She didn't really like them poking holes in her skin, and those tattoo needles...! She'd put those thoughts out of her mind and instead started drooling over the tech.

===#===

She wasn't aware that the car had stopped until Malcolm put a hand on her arm. Then she startled out of her geek revelry and looked at him.

"You're sure you're okay with this?" he said, his pale eyes fixing her, his leather glove firm on her bicep. She began to nod, but he wasn't finished. "I'm not Oliver. This is not a Vigilante mercy mission. I'm going to go in there and kill all those men. If you have any reservations whatsoever, this is your last chance to back out."

Her mouth was so dry, she felt every muscle in her throat as she swallowed. Touching her tongue to her lips helped. "I'm sure that there are rational, logical arguments for bringing these men into the justice system, but..." She re-wet her lips, swallowed again. "Honestly, I can't think of any at the moment." She took another breath, consulted her moral compass. She met Merlyn's frank gaze. "I'm in."

He smiled slightly. "Good." He gave her arm a gentle squeeze, then let go. "Fire up the comms." He put on his earpiece and hood, then got out of the limo.

Felicity turned to the comms program and switched it to live. She hit the key to broadcast. "This is Trinity. Comm check." She labeled each channel as they reported in.

"_Alpha, check._"

"_Bravo, check._"

"_Charlie, check._"

"_Delta, check._"

"_Eagle, check._"

"_This is Black_," the Dark Archer reported last. "_Check._"

"All good to go." Felicity glanced out the window.

"_Deploy_," Merlyn prompted her.

"Deploy," she ordered. Adrenaline lit up her veins like sparks on a wire. She checked the local map and the GPS signal for each operative. There was a blank spot in the middle of the map; they hadn't been able to get a current layout of the building interior. Hopefully, the jacked CCTV feed would give them a better idea.

Felicity rubbed her hands nervously on her pants, waiting for the tech to do the tap. _Time. It's going to take them some time to get into position. To get to the junction box. To arrange the wires._ She watched the dots blink across the screen.

Alpha and Bravo took up positions at the southwest corner, where they could see the front and side of the building. Charlie and Delta moved to the northeast corner at the other side.

Black and Eagle went around to the back. There was more silence. Felicity chewed her nails, then made a face when she realized it.

Finally, "_Moving into position_," said Eagle.

The others reported in - no movement. Except Alpha, who had eyes on two guards at the front. At least they were staying put.

They didn't worry Felicity. What worried her were the guys monitoring the cameras. "What if they have outside surveillance?"

She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until the low rumble of the Dark Archer's voice answered her. "_I took out the light and the guard._"

He had? She hadn't heard anything. But, duh, what did she expect, gunfire? She rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs again.

"_Feed is live_," Eagle reported. "_Trinity, you read?_"

Felicity activated the receiver and sent the images to the widescreen monitor. "Got it. Stand by." She toggled the mic off to study the feeds.

Motion in the upper right quadrant caught her eye. There was a man in a room. Burly, buzzcut; she could only see his back and one ear, but she was sure it was him. "Burkhardt is here. Oh my God." He had one of the girls; she couldn't be more than fifteen. He pushed her down on the cot. "Oh my God. He's- He-" Felicity started hyperventilating.

"_Trinity, the mission._"

There was no sound, thank God, but she could see the girl's face, pleading, her mouth open as she cried out against his implacable violation.

"_Trinity, don't watch!_"

But she couldn't look away; she was frozen, her mouth open in horror. She had to stop this, they had to make it stop, they were here to rescue these girls. They couldn't be too late! But she had no air, and she couldn't think, and they couldn't get in, they couldn't, _wouldn't_-"

"_Felicity!_"

She flinched as if slapped, which was good, because it made her close her eyes. She gasped and started breathing again.

The voice in her ear rumbled like a tiger's growl. "_He's going to pay. But to make that happen, you need to focus. Look at the other feeds. Can you see where everyone else is?_"

She looked up under her lashes, trying to quiet her hitching breath. "I don't know... I don't know! It's all just corridors and halls and rooms and it's all jumbled together. I don't know!"

"_Breathe._"

She sniffed and took a breath. Then another.

"_That's it. Easy, now. Do you see the outside cameras?_"

Breathe, breathe. "Yes. They're darker."

"_Where are they? Report to the Ravens,_" he reminded her.

She took another breath and thought she could sound un-shaky enough when she hit her comm. "There's a camera over the front door; it's pointed down, so really can't see far. A couple feet. There's two cameras at the corners of the building. They're sweeping back and forth on a slow cycle." Her fingers flew over the keys, labeling the feeds she could identify. Her hands weren't as steady as her voice, and she kept making mistakes. Screw it. She could read typonese.

"_Is there surveillance on the roof?_"

She checked. "No."

"_Do you see a way inside up there, on the satellite photo?_"

She switched to the laptop screen and zoomed in. "I... yeah. There's a door. Or at least one of those shed-looking things that's usually a roof exit door."

"_Do you see the girls? How many men?_" the Dark Archer prompted her now.

Her eyes flick-flicked across the monitors, trying not to see one in particular. "There's a room with eight beds. Seven of the girls are there, with it looks like one guard." She hoped he was guarding, not-. Focus. "Three guys in another room, sitting around. Off duty, I guess. I see two guys wandering the - no, three guys in the halls. I don't see any big guns." That was a relief, wasn't it? No assault rifles. "I don't know how many guys in the monitoring room, one or two maybe. I guess they don't want to watch themselves watching themselves..." She clicked off before she started babbling. More.

"_This is Eagle. I can cut the surveillance feed and/or the power from here._"

Felicity bit her lip. Would that help? If the traffickers lost the surveillance, they'd _know_ something was up.

"_Tell them negative,_" Black said a moment later, sounding a little breathless. "_I want to keep this a stealth mission._"

Felicity keyed the mic. "Negative. Hold positions. Wait for further instructions." In a spare brain synapse, she wondered why Merlyn didn't give the commands himself. It would certainly be faster if things got hairy. She closed her eyes. _I did not just jinx things to get hairy_, she avowed.

"_I'm on the roof._" That was fast. Okay, maybe not quite as fast as Oliver; that guy was leaping salmon ladder fast. "_Can you check the guard positions again?_"

She did so, and reported dutifully to him and the mercenaries. Two guys in the halls were on patrol. The one guy came back from the bathroom or whatever to return to his poker buddies.

Burkhardt seemed to be finished, but was still in that room. She couldn't look directly; it turned her stomach. If he was getting ready for another go-round, she was going to start screaming.

Movement caught her eye; it was the edge of the door whipping open, and then a dark figure appeared in the frame. "_Nein, ich werde dir den Weg zur Hölle zeigen!_"

Felicity didn't know what that meant, but it sounded utterly demonic. Burkhardt blanched and shrank back, then caught himself after a moment. His face twisted into a snarl. He dove for his clothes, or rather, his gun.

Felicity crammed her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out and distracting the Dark Archer. Where was his bow? Why hadn't he shot the bastard already?

Burkhardt came up with the gun; the Dark Archer crossed to him in a flash, seized his hand, and twisted the weapon out of his grip. Burkhardt lunged, swinging like a bear set on taking a guy's head off, but he was clearly way out of his league. The Dark Archer let him attack, then struck back, almost toying with his opponent.

Heart thumping double-time, Felicity watched on the black and white monitor. It was completely surreal. She could see the girl screaming in the background, she could see the bones in Burkhardt's arm snapping, but there was no sound. The Dark Archer's mic was designed to only pick up a limited range. All Felicity could hear in the raging fight was the harsh expulsion of breath as Merlyn struck, the low modulated grunt of effort as he kicked Burkhardt.

The man was on the floor now, out of sight of the camera. The Dark Archer kept kicking him. In the background, the girl shrank back on the cot, wedging herself into the corner.

Merlyn stopped, then turned towards her. He reached for his hood, and for a moment, Felicity thought he was going to take it off, to show the girl his face. Instead, she heard a faint blip. "Black?" She looked over at the side monitor, but she didn't need the red indicator to realize he'd turned off his comms. "What are you doing?"

She looked back at the screen, and a cold chill ran over her as she saw the dark figure looming over the frightened girl. It evoked memories of a shadow in a dark, isolated room... She shoved those images away. They were nightmares; they never really happened.

She pressed her hands to her mouth, hardly breathing. The girl was shaking her head, crying, pleading. The Dark Archer was holding something out - Felicity couldn't see what it was. What the hell was he doing?

The girl looked away, buried her face in her hands. The Dark Archer put away whatever he was holding. He pulled the bow from his back and smoothly pulled out and arrow and put it to the string. Felicity's breath squeezed from her body as he drew it back... Then he turned and fired at the camera. The feed blinked out in a flash of static.

_What the hell!?_

===_X_===

* * *

End Notes:

_The Bloodravens:_

I was trying to think of a cool name for a band of female mercenaries... uhm, you may have noticed I'm really bad at names. So, I swiped one! Blood Raven is some mini-boss character from Diablo II, my RP character, Siobhan Bloodraven, is her namesake.

-You can take 5,000 Bloodsong points if you remember Blood Raven from Diablo II, and 50,000 if you've ever met Siobhan. ;)


	6. The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo 4

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 4**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Action/Drama

Language: yes

Violence: oh yeah

Nudity: implied (m)

Sex: see Other

Other: sexual assault (aftermath)

_Author's Note:_

I wanted to leave this within the Teen rating, but some of the subject matter is more adult and the violence more graphic. If you think it needs to be bumped up to an M rating, please let me know.

I had a scene that happens after this, but I seem to have lost it... but I'm sure I'll find it. I hope. :X I have two weeks, after all.

German translation(s) by Die Astra, so I don't sound like a Google Translator idiot. Thank you, Astra!

* * *

**The IT Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Part 4**

===#===

_(moments ago)_

Malcolm stalked the upper hall, an arrow on the string of his bow. The hall was brightly-lit, and he felt distinctly out of place there. Maybe they should have cut the power, but no. The guards would have flashlights, maybe even emergency power. It was better this way, to catch them by surprise.

He pressed against the wall where the hall turned a corner. He glanced around it - the corridor was empty. He continued, until he heard a sound up ahead.

It was muffled by a door, but he could hear a man speaking and the undercurrent of a young woman crying. Malcolm's glove creaked as he tightened his grip on the bow. He tensed as anger knotted up inside him.

"And now you learn your place, girl," the man said in German. "I'll show you the proper way to behave."

Malcolm shouldered his bow and re-sheathed the arrow in one smooth motion. He kicked at the door, making it crash open. "No, I'll show you the way to Hell," he growled in the same language as he advanced on the man, Les Burkhardt himself.

Burkhardt paled as the spectre of death approached him, then he made a desperate scramble for his gun. Malcolm pounced before he could bring it up. Bones ground together and crackled as he wrenched Burkhardt's wrist. The man shouted in pain and attacked.

Malcolm should have snapped the bastard's neck, but that wouldn't cool his rage. No, this man, this monster, had to pay for the pain he had caused. The Dark Archer struck viciously without mercy, but not to kill. Only to cripple.

He blocked the clumsy punches, seized Burkhardt's arm and twisted. Cartilage popped as Malcolm's fist smashed through the elbow joint. He wrenched a shoulder out of it's socket and stomped down, shattering the kneecap as Burkhardt's leg folded the wrong way. He cut off the man's howl with the crunch of an elbow across the face. Burkhardt's nose spurted blood, and a few teeth probably went down his throat, but that wouldn't kill him.

Burkhardt collapsed to the floor, and Malcolm didn't let up. He planted a boot in his solar plexus - not hard enough to kill, just to knock the wind out of him. Then the ribs, kidneys, liver. Malcolm snarled viciously as he kept kicking the bastard.

His vision went red and for a moment, he lost control of himself. Then he pulled back, panting. He looked around, guiltily realizing he'd frightened the life out of the young woman. She'd been screaming as he'd laid into the human trafficker, and now dissolved into fearful sobs, cowering on the makeshift bed. Her cries tore at him.

He reached up and turned off his comm unit. He had to make it right for this girl, even though it was too late to save her. "Don't cry," he said softly. The voice changer was turned off now as well. "It's all right," he continued in German. She shrank back as he stepped towards her. "He won't hurt you ever again."

Her breath hitched. God, how old was she? Fifteen? "Is too late," she said in accented English. "I am ruined."

"No, that's not true." He fought to keep his voice steady in the face of her tears. "You're strong. You can get through this."

"No man wants a soiled woman."

Malcolm's blood boiled. It was probably one of the lines Burkhardt used to keep his victims complacent. _You're dirty; you're damaged. No decent man will want you; your only use now is to be a whore._ He gripped his knife.

Then he drew it and held the hilt out to her. "Take this. Make him pay."

She recoiled as if it were a snake. "No..."

"Get your revenge. Take your life back."

She hugged her knees. Her wide eyes darted to the heap on the floor, then back to the blade. He thought he saw a flicker within their depths, a moment of temptation. Then revulsion twisted her features. "No...!" She turned away, hiding her face in her hands. "No, I can't!"

He relented and sheathed the knife. Not everyone had the spirit of a warrior. Not everyone had the stomach to mete out vengeance. They needed the protection of others.

"I will kill him for you." He pulled the bow from his shoulder, smoothly turned and disabled the camera. Felicity needed protection as well. This wasn't for her. She didn't need to watch.

He moved to the broken creature on the floor. Burkhardt's limbs jutted out at awkward angles. Malcolm shouldered the bow once more and rolled Burkhardt over with his foot. The bastard groaned, and his eyes spit fury from the mask of blood on his face. "_Ich-!_"

Malcolm cut off his tirade by stepping on his throat. Burkhardt gurgled and thrashed. His good arm, the wrist swollen and purple, batted ineffectually at the Dark Archer's boot. Malcolm drew the knife and looked back at the young woman. "Quickly?" he asked her, pointing the blade at the man's heart. "Or..." He moved it lower, over Burkahrdt's torso, his exposed belly, and came to a stop over his groin. "Slowly?"

The man gurgled and redoubled his efforts to break free. Malcolm put a stop to that by standing more heavily on his neck.

The girl shook as she met his eyes. She darted a glance at Burkhardt, but swiftly turned away. "_Schnell._" She squeezed her eyes shut.

Malcolm turned his gaze down on his victim. _You lucky bastard._ Burkhardt had raped her, but he hadn't destroyed her innocence. Malcolm never would have been so kind, but he wasn't doing this for himself. He switched the knife into a reverse grip, then stepped back, dropped into a crouch, and plunged the blade into the bastard's chest, straight through the heart.

Burkhardt gasped one last breath, blood frothing on his lips. His heart spasmed, making the knife shudder in Malcolm's hand. He gripped it harder, wrenched it down and pulled it out, making sure the serrated teeth on the spine tore through flesh and grated on bone. Blood poured from the wound.

Malcolm stepped back, wiped the blade on the leg of his leathers, and sheathed it. He looked over to the young woman, who was crying again, her face buried in her hands. He didn't know if she were crying from relief, or because he frightened her even more. Guiltily, he looked away. He'd meant to tell her to stay here, but he couldn't leave her with the body and the rapidly spreading pool of blood. "We need to get out of here. Do you know where the others are?"

"D-Downstairs."

"And the guards?"

"I don't know!"

"It's all right," he assured her, trying to keep his distance, to look less menacing. He moved to the door, which had swung closed. "I won't let anyone else hurt you. We just have to get you to a safe room."

She moved awkwardly off the cot, trying to adjust her torn dress. She cast about a moment, then bent to retrieve her discarded underwear. He turned away to give her some semblance of privacy. It tore him up inside to hear her muffled sobs, to know that he had been too late to save her.

He leaned closer to the door; he didn't hear anything out in the hall. He reactivated his comms and took his bow in hand. The young woman crept up beside him, sniffling back her tears.

"No more?" she asked softly.

"I promise."

To his surprise, she pressed against his right side, one arm behind his back, the other tucked against his chest. Carefully, he laid his arm over her shoulders.

===#===

"_Trinity, is the upstairs corridor clear?_"

Felicity snapped upright, pulling her head out of her hands. She almost asked him what the hell he'd been doing, but she wasn't sure right now was a good time to know. She looked at the video feed of the hallway where she'd seen him last. "It looks empty."

The door opened, and the dark figure emerged, with his arm around the girl. Felicity blinked. All right. She'd get the story later. Right now, job. She scanned the security footage again. "There's someone in the stairwell, coming up - _look out!_"

===#===

Malcolm and the guard spotted each other at the same time. The guard cursed and drew his gun. Malcolm could have dropped him, if not for the girl clinging to his side. He turned and threw himself in front of her just as the guard started shooting.

He shoved the girl towards the door he'd spotted with a restroom sign. He hit it with his bow arm and it swung open. She tumbled inside with a yelp.

The guard kept firing, and two more slugs slammed into Malcolm's back.

===#===

Felicity squeaked and shoved her hands against her mouth again. Yelling 'Oh my God! Look out! Get up!' at the Dark Archer was not going to be helpful. She saw the bullets tear into Malcolm's back, saw him collapse face down in the doorway, heard him wheeze as he stifled a scream.

Now what should she do!? Her mind blanked out. She watched helplessly as the guard rushed to retrieve the girl. She squeaked in surprise as the fallen archer twisted under the man and slammed a fist up into his groin. The guard doubled over, and the Dark Archer's other hand caught him by the throat and threw him to the floor inside that doorway Felicity couldn't see into!

"Are you all right?" she blurted incredulously.

===#===

"I'm fine," Malcolm lied. He felt as if he'd had his lungs kicked out by a mule, and his shoulder blade burned with pain. It felt hot and wet, so he knew he was bleeding, but all in all, he wasn't so hurt he couldn't shoot. Just to make sure, he put an arrow through the fallen guard's chest. "Get the gun," he told the young woman. She scrambled around on the floor to retrieve it.

"_Oh, they heard that,_" Felicity was telling him. "_All the guards are heading for the stairs._"

"How many, and which stairwell?" He fitted another arrow to the string and stood braced in the doorway.

"_Seven, and the same one, on the west side._"

"Tell the Ravens to execute maneuver Hector Kilo. Now!"

===#===

Felicity keyed the other channel. "Execute Hector Kilo, now! I repeat, Hector Kilo!" She twitched as she heard two distinct pops of gunfire in rapid succession. It came from outside the limo.

The guards at the front door were down. A moment later, Alpha and Bravo appeared and forced the door open.

"_Where are the guards?_"

"Most are heading up the west stairwell." Felicity paused to glance at the upstairs hall feed. Yeah, those two weren't getting up again. Five left. "The guard in the dorm has gone out of the room. I don't see him."

She heard more gunfire making the comms click off and on as they blanked out the noise.

"_Sweep by unit, room by room,_" Alpha ordered her troops.

"Alpha, stop! Get away from that door!"

"_Trinity, what-?_"

"There's a camera on that door," Felicity said in a rush. "And if that's the monitoring room, they know you're coming."

"_Eagle, disable the surveillance._"

"_Negative, Alpha. I'm with Charlie and Delta on the sweep._"

"I'll do it." Felicity pushed the swivel arm out of her way, scooted across the back seat, and climbed out the door. She managed that fast enough that she was trotting towards the building before she could ask herself if she were nuts.

She ran down the side walkway and around the corner. The electrical panel had to be here, under the broken light, make sure you don't trip over the guard's body! Felicity switched her comm so both channels were locked open. "Black, what's your status?"

"_They're pinned down._"

_They_ were? Well, she guessed guns couldn't shoot around corners. "I can't cut off the surveillance unless I kill the power." Felicity heard Alpha telling her Ravens to go to night vision. She didn't think that came with an archer hood.

"_Do it,_" came the bass rumble.

"All right, killing the power in 3... 2... 1-" She cranked the lever down. The lights went out.

She stayed with her back pressed to the wall. There was no point going back to the monitors, the cameras would be out. They might need her to turn the lights back on. She heard a spate of gunfire from within the depths of the building.

"_We took out the monitoring station, but Alpha is hit._" That must be Bravo. "_We need to fall back._"

"Do you need the lights back on?"

"_Negative. We have the advantage in low light._"

"Black?"

"_Leave them off._"

"Roger." Felicity turned and sprinted the length of the building again. She rounded the corner and - oops, more dead bodies she'd forgotten about. She didn't look too closely. "I'm at the front door. Guide me in." She took a moment to flick the comm channels to push-to-talk.

"_First left._"

That was easy enough. The hallway was dark, but there were windows at the end, letting in some of the city's night lighting. Felicity got to the corner there and came face to face with Bravo half-carrying her wounded commander. She recognized them from her imprisonment: the stern black woman, and the blonde one who had bitch-slapped her when she'd tried to call 911. Sandra, that was her name. She gaped at them, and they stared at her.

"You?" Sandra said, finally.

"Uh, yeah, just me."

Bravo said, "You walked into a firefight without a flak jacket?"

"This part was secure," Felicity said, trying to shrug it off, though she hadn't thought of it like that. Or thought much, admittedly. "Besides, I'm just walking right back out again." She gestured for Bravo to give her Sandra, and moved to take the woman's arm over her own arm and shoulders.

Flak jackets and combat gear weighted a ton, Felicity noticed, but she got Sandra out of the building, and the woman guided her to the mercenaries' panel van. In the back was a first aid center.

Felicity helped the pale Sandra onto the cot. The merc was sweating and biting back the pain. Felicity grabbed the nearest kit, popped it open, and pulled out the scissors. She went to work exposing Sandra's wound, which was on her left hip, by removing buckles and belts where she could, and cutting cloth where it was sticky with blood.

"Are you a field medic?"

"The fieldy-est," Felicity said, thinking about the on-the-spot training Diggle had given her.

Sandra hissed between clenched teeth. "It hit the bone," she grated.

Felicity tried to wipe the wound tract clear of blood with an alcohol swab, but it was leaking fast, and she felt something shift under her fingers.

Sandra did cry out, then.

"I'm sorry! I don't know how to remove a bullet from bone."

"Patch... immobilize it," Sandra panted. "It's splintered. Need a hospital."

At last, a patient with sense. But... "Won't they have to report a gunshot wound to the police?"

"Boss will handle it." Oh, of course. Money talks, and bullet wound reports walk. Felicity wadded absorbent bandages gingerly over the wound and taped them as tightly as she could.

Then Sandra gestured at the overhead compartment. "Antibiotic shot."

She also found painkillers among the pre-loaded syringes. Oliver _had_ to get a setup like this. She took both needles (trying not to think about the sharp, pointy needle part), and swabbed Sandra's bicep.

"No painkillers," the woman grated.

"Are you allergic?"

"No... have to drive..."

"You're already not in any condition to be driving," Felicity insisted. She administered both drugs to the woman. Sandra's eyes fluttered closed, and Felicity made her more comfortable, more modestly covered, and put a blanket over her to counteract the chill of shock.

She maybe paid one-quarter attention to the comm chatter. It seemed the Bloodravens were handling the traffickers. A few minutes later, Felicity told Sandra, "They got 'em. The building is secure, and they're talking with the girls now." The woman didn't seem to hear her, but it made Felicity feel better.

Then a deeper voice came over the comms. "_Trinity, where are you?_"

She flicked the mic back on for channel 2. "I'm in the van."

"_Is Alpha okay?_"

"Yeah. She's resting."

A few minutes later, the back door opened, and the van dipped as the Dark Archer climbed in. He turned to Sandra, checking her patch job, and touching her cheek lightly when he saw she was out. "How bad is it?" he asked Felicity.

"She's going to need a surgeon, but she assured me her boss has that covered."

"Yes, he has."

Felicity tried to peer into the shadows of his hood, but his head was lowered. "And are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

He turned, and she saw the wet patch on his leathers. "Okay, we need to work on your vocabulary, because 'bleeding' does not equal 'fine.'"

"It's just a scratch," he insisted.

She grabbed his sleeve as he tried to leave. "Let me see."

"I can't let the others know my identity."

"She's out cold, and the rest have their hands full with sorting out the girls." Felicity gave him the no-nonsense glare she'd been practicing on Oliver. "Now take off your clothes, since I'm the field medic."

He grumbled but complied - wow, that glare must be working - and stripped off his hood and his jacket. She wrapped the latter around the bow and quiver, so he could grab it and go when he needed to. Also a bonus was the fact he didn't mention the taking off of clothes comment. No, not blushing. It was perfectly normal military field medic jargon.

Malcolm grimaced at the blood coating his ballistic vest. Felicity moved to help him with it, but realized she had no idea how it worked. She grabbed a wad of absorbent gauze while he pulled apart the overlapping velcro seams at the sides. Trying not to move his left arm, he pulled it over his head with a hissed curse. He hissed again when she put the gauze over the wound.

"Sorry. Can you lean down? I can't see."

The space in the van was very tight. They ended up with Malcolm kneeling bent over the empty bench and Felicity straddling his legs and leaning down to clear the blood.

"Well, this is going to be world's easiest bullet extraction ever." The slug was lodged in a shallow track across Malcolm's shoulder. It must have hit just at the armhole and then became trapped by the Kevlar. She grabbed it with the forceps and pried it right out.

"Ow!"

"Sorry." She tossed the bullet in the medical waste bin. "This is going to hurt, too. Sorry," she apologized again, then ran peroxide over the track. Well, it was faster than swabbing it, and he was in a rush, wasn't he? "Luckily, it won't need stitches."

He growled low in his throat and tried not to move. Felicity wiped blood from his skin. She also saw two fist-sized splotches of purple blooming over his back, where the other bullets had hit the vest head-on. "That looks painful. Are you going to the hospital, too?"

"No, I'm fine. Well, bleeding, but fine."

"And bruised."

"At least they weren't curare-laced bullets."

"What was that like?" she asked.

His expression darkened. "I'd rather not talk about that."

She gnawed her lip as she taped some fresh bandages down on his shoulder. She couldn't imagine being shot at by some sniper. And then curare. She understood it paralyzed the body, including the diaphragm. Victims suffocated, unable to move or breathe. She shuddered.

"All right," she said when she'd finished. "All done." She stood up and shuffled aside so she wouldn't trip over his legs.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He stood and gathered his gear. "We should get going. The Ravens can handle things from here."

"I'm going to be staying," she said, clasping her fingers together. "And helping."

He pursed his lips in concern.

"Look, I know who they are, they know who I am. It's cool."

"If you're sure?"

She nodded. "I am. I want to help with this. I want to be there for these women."

"All right." He scooted past her to the back doors. "Thank you again, for everything."

"I'm glad I could help." She had that post-successful-mission elation going on. She smiled.

He dropped lightly out of the van and disappeared into the night.

===_X_===

* * *

_End Notes:_

_German Translation:_

This was how it was supposed to go, except the two parts got disconnected in the final editing.

Bad guy says: "Dir werde ich schon noch zeigen, wo es langgeht!" (slang for, I will show you some manners, I'll show you how to deal with me, I'll show you who's the one in charge here).

Malcolm: "Nein, ich werde dir den Weg zur Hölle zeigen!" (No, I'll show you the way to Hell.)

.

_Well, she guessed guns couldn't shoot around corners._

-Felicity's been watching _Blade_. :X Yes, you can have 1,000 Bloodsong points if you recognized that one. (Uh, I can't remember which _Blade_ off the top of my head. 3, wasn't it? (No, I did not say WitchBlade!))


	7. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Drama

Language: some

Violence: no

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

_Author's Note:_

This chapter was so much harder than it had to be! First, I was _sure_ I had written the first part already, but I couldn't find it. So I rewrote it (and I HATE redoing stuff)! Then the next part was definitely written... three different times. With three different versions... and as I'm typing this, I'm sitting here with papers scattered across the desk, trying to cut and splice this into one coherent scene...!

I tell you, it's a miracle this chapter isn't late.

* * *

**Aftermath**

===#===

_Felicity's Apartment_

The next day, Felicity recovered from the post-mission elation by sleeping 'til noon. She was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. It was a good exhaustion, though. She could look back on the night and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. She'd been brave - stupid, but brave. She'd made a difference, an all-important difference in the lives of eight young women.

She deserved a reward, like snuggling into her pillow another few hours, but the world conspired against her, sending some demon to torment her by ringing her doorbell insistently at the godawful hour of high noon.

She shrugged on her bathrobe and staggered over to peer blearily through the peephole. "Who is it?"

"Special delivery."

What? She hadn't ordered anything. And when she did, she always used 'cheap and slow' as her shipping method. "Can't you just leave it in the hall?" It was a relatively secure building. She didn't think any of her neighbors would swipe something. Though Mrs. Gillis wouldn't be above taking a nosey look.

"I have orders to see it safely in the hands of the recipient, ma'am."

Felicity groaned. She tucked the robe more tightly over her nightgown and just hoped she didn't look as frightfully disheveled as she felt.

The young man said nothing except to ask her where she wanted the box. It was a two-and-a-half foot cube, so she had him put it on the sofa, the closest piece of furniture to the door. "Do I have to sign for it?"

"No, ma'am. I'll report back." With that, he took his leave, and Felicity realized he wasn't the postman or UPS, but a special courier. Who would send her something by courier? One of those rich folk she was hobnobbing around with lately.

She looked at the return address, which was emblazoned with a centaur logo. She didn't need to read it; it was clearly Sagittarius, the company that they found out made the Dark Archer's custom arrows. Which meant it was really a shell company for Merlyn Global.

She got a kitchen knife and made short work of the shipping tape, then dug into the box like a kid with a Hanukkah present. There was a folded sheet of paper on top of the bundle; she opened it to read:

_The Ravens wanted to show their appreciation for your help, and said you could use one of these._

_-M-_

Felicity didn't squee - she was not an over-excitable teenager, and she never squee'd. Out loud. Where, like, people might hear... But in a trice, she had the inner plastic bag torn open and the contents removed in a shower of those new biodegradable packing peanuts.

Then she was in the bathroom, admiring her very own combat vest, heedless of the way it clashed with her nightgown. A big grin split her face. "Wait 'til Oliver and Diggle get a load of this!"

Her grin faltered. Oh. They'd probably chew her out. She sighed and put the vest into her sports bag. She'd leave it at the 'Arrow Cave,' since that was the most likely time she'd actually need it.

It would be nice to have something to remember the mission by. Her mind turned back to that dragon tattoo. Never mind needles, her grocery store had a gumball machine with removable tattoos. Well, not a 'gumball' machine, since there were tattoos, not gumballs in it. Whatever. She bet they had a killer dragon design.

By the time she got her clothes on and her hair up, she was smiling again. She grabbed the sports bag and headed out.

===#===

_Verdant Basement_

Felicity came down the steps from the club, a blue sports bag hooked over one shoulder. Oliver swiveled his chair around as she crossed to her computer station. "And where were you last night?" he asked.

"Me? Last night?" She barely flicked a glance in his direction, avoiding eye contact. "I asked you if I could have the night off-"

"Don't play games, Felicity. It's all over the news. Burkhardt, his men, all dead."

"Oh." Expression drained from her face, leaving only a shadow of guilt. She dumped the sports bag to the floor, and pushed it under the desk with her foot.

Oliver glanced at Diggle, who bit his lip and remained silent. The archer returned his scrutiny to the tech girl. "Did you, or did you not, have anything to do with that?"

She turned to him, lifting her chin. "Yes. I did."

"Dammit, Felicity! What were you thinking?"

"You know, just because I work for your family's company, and I also work for you, does not make you my boss."

He just raised a brow at her logic.

"Okay, it sorta does, but-! I'm a free agent. I can take contract work whenever I want."

"You could have been hurt," he argued. "You could have been killed!"

"I can be hurt working with you, Oliver!"

He had to admire her unexpected bravery, and her righteous stubbornness. Except now. Why couldn't she see the danger she put herself in? "I make sure to plan for your protection."

"Which you _could_ have done, _if_ you had gone along with us." She crossed her arms, colour rising in her cheeks. "But, no, you didn't."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Because you told Malcolm to take a hike without even looking into-"

"No." He stood up, cutting her off. "I wasn't able to be there for you, because you went behind my back!"

She turned away, having the grace to be ashamed of that, at least.

"I told you my reasons for not helping Merlyn. I don't like being set up."

"It was not a setup," she insisted. "It was real! There were real people, being hurt, and..." Her voice faltered. "And we did something about it."

Diggle spoke up from his seat, where he'd remained silent so far. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She paced back and forth, collecting herself.

"The news didn't say anything about any women being there, nothing about sex trafficking. Just that Burkhardt was hit."

"Well, they were definitely there! We didn't leave them; we got them to a safe house. Mr. Merlyn will arrange for them to get transport back home."

Diggle looked past her to Oliver. Oliver chewed on this information, but it didn't dissipate the bad taste in his mouth. What she'd done was a mistake. She had to see that. "Did you know, going in there, that he was going to slaughter everyone?"

Felicity stopped short, her eyes wide, her lip caught between her teeth. She couldn't say it, but he saw the truth clearly on her face. She'd known.

"Goddammit! I can't believe you signed off on a murder mission!" Now Oliver paced. He was ready to hit something. Merlyn had talked her into helping him kill people!

"You would have killed him, too," she insisted.

He whirled on her. "I am _not_ Malcolm Merlyn. I am not like him."

"You weren't _there!_ You decided not to go." She accused him of this as if it were some petty decision he'd undertaken on a whim.

"I thought you decided to be a part of _this_ team, not Merlyn's call girl!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that was not the thing to say. Felicity's eyes went wide, and that colour drained away from he cheeks. Oliver tensed up as she narrowed her eyes at him.

Diggle moved in. "Whoa! All right, calm down. Step back into your own corners a minute." His hand pressed against Oliver's chest. Oliver stepped back, looking away, trying to cool off. Then Diggle's hand was on Felicity's arm.

He guided her to her workstation. "I don't think any of us has the whole picture, here. Oliver's just concerned about you."

"And why?" Felicity asked stubbornly. "Why are you getting all judgmental on me - and don't tell me you're not, Digg, I can see it all over your face. You're on his side!"

"There aren't any sides, here. We're all on the same team."

"We were," Oliver growled. "Until one of us decided to run off on her own."

This didn't help. Felicity's eyes flashed. "Look, I'm not your daughter or your sister or your wife - and you know what? Even if I were, I'm an independent woman. You cannot tell me what I can or cannot do with my life, or how I choose to spend my nights, or what illegal vigilante activity I do...!"

Oliver rubbed his face. This was not working. He tried to reign in his temper. "Felicity, I'm not trying to run your life." He moved back to face her, though not too close. "I care about you."

Her mouth dropped open. For a moment, he seemed to have short-circuited her voice box. Then, "I... care about you, too, Oliver," she managed.

"And you really hate when I pull stupid stunts that put me in danger."

"Yeah, big time." She nodded. "Wait, are you calling this a stupid stunt?"

"No! I'm just..." He looked to Diggle for help, but the soldier was playing the silent waiting game again. He turned back to the young woman he'd gotten tangled up in his life. "I'm just pointing out why I feel concerned."

"Well." She seemed to regain her balance. "But it's over now. And I _am_ fine. So can we go back to caring about each other without all the angry yelling?"

Oliver drew a breath and let it go, slowly, with control. "Yeah." He knew who he needed to yell at.

"Good." She gave him a shy smile and sat in her computer chair. She turned, and her foot thunked against the sports bag beneath the table.

"What's in there?" Diggle asked with mild curiosity.

"Uh... my flack jacket." She buried her nose in her keyboard.

Oliver and Diggle shot each other a look. Oliver said, "And you have a flack jacket because...?"

"Well, as a safety precaution. You're all about being concerned for my safety, right?"

"Felicity...!"

"Fine!" She tossed her hands in the air and spun the chair around. "It's so I don't walk into a firefight without a flack jacket again."

"You walked into a firefight?" Diggle exclaimed.

"It was perfectly safe!

"Are you-!?"

She cut Oliver off with an adamant finger point. "Don't start!"

He _really_ needed to punch something now!

Diggle stepped in again. "Okay, hold it. All arguments and recriminations aside, we're going to sit down like calm, rational adults here, and have a debriefing." He eyed both of the combatants. They still bristled. "I'll just make us some coffee. Oliver? Give me a hand."

===#===

Diggle put Felicity's favorite blend in the coffee machine, while he had Oliver go fill the pot with water. Felicity herself stayed over by her workstation, mesmerized by the glow of the screens. Diggle moved out of sight and caught up with Oliver near the makeshift bathroom. "Hey, ease up, man." He kept his voice low, so it wouldn't carry in the vast basement.

Oliver cocked a brow. "And let her put herself in danger?"

"She does that here... Listen, didn't we just have this conversation?"

"You can't tell me you think this is an any way a good thing. Felicity, putting herself in Merlyn's hands?" He dumped water out of the pot, ostensibly to rinse it out, then let it start filling again. "Do you even know how many ways that is bad?"

They couldn't know what Merlyn had done to Felicity while he'd held her captive. Physically, she was fine. Diggle hadn't noticed any sign of PTSD in her, either. There were a few subconscious reactions she had, that she probably didn't realize. As for brain-washing... well, Felicity's mind was possibly too complicated for that to work. But Merlyn had held her long enough.

"I do agree with you," Diggle said. "But biting Felicity's head off, and making her feel bad about something good she's done...? Oliver, she's not a soldier. And she's not a guy. You've got to be careful how you handle her." He glanced around, making sure they still had their privacy, and lowered his voice further. "You know, I don't like to bring up your playboy past, but you were shit at dealing with women, weren't you?"

Oliver didn't reply, but ran his hands back through his bristly hair. He sighed and retrieved the coffee pot, shut off the water. "I should chew Merlyn's head off." He sounded much calmer.

"Now you're talking."

===#===

John brought her a coffee mug, and she smiled thanks up at him. Then he and Oliver took the other two chairs and waited expectantly. Felicity wasn't sure what to tell them and what to leave out. She stalled by pretending to look over the results of her automated searches. Then she decided to just report the facts of each step of the mission.

That meant she had to tell them what she'd seen on the monitors. She didn't like it, but they deserved to know, to understand what the Dark Archer had gone to stop. Oliver and Diggle's looks darkened.

"He killed Burkhardt," she said quietly. "With extreme prejudice." She didn't go into details - in fact, she still wasn't sure what all the details were. "You would have done the same," she told Oliver, daring to look into his eyes. His face was grim, and he scowled further. "_I_ would have done the same," she said. "If, you know, I were a highly-trained martial artist and assassin." So much for 'I'm not a vengeful person.' But there was a difference between petty vengefulness and righteous fury.

She finished the story in quick summary: the firefight, the cutting of the power, her daring if foolish rescue of the Bloodraven leader. Then the aftermath - treating the injuries, rescuing the girls, comforting them, bundling them up to send them back home. It had been a grueling night, physically and emotionally.

By the end of her story, Oliver was still scowling, thoughts going on behind those grey eyes that she couldn't fathom. Diggle gripped Felicity's shoulder. "Well done," he said with a smile. "We're proud of you."

"Thanks." She smiled back. Of course, it wasn't as if she were their daughter and needed parental encouragement, but it felt good anyway.

She looked in Oliver's direction again. He seemed about to say something, but then he hid it behind one of his plastic smiles. Did those really fool anyone? "Good job," was all he said.

===_X_===

* * *

**End Notes:**

_She hadn't ordered anything. And when she did, she always used 'cheap and slow' as her shipping method._

.

_Felicity didn't squee - she was not an over-excitable teenager, and she never squee'd. Out loud. Where, like, people might hear..._

.

_Never mind needles, her grocery store had a gumball machine with removable tattoos. _

-This is all so self-insert, it's not funny! :X


End file.
